


Hold On

by gonergone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonergone/pseuds/gonergone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The love triangle between Percy, Oliver, and Quidditch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [csichick_2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/csichick_2/gifts).



The Hogwarts Express was bigger than he’d thought it would be. For years, Percy had been imagining every single detail of his first day at Hogwarts, and it always started with leaving the house with Bill and Charlie, his wand in his pocket and his school robes smartly pressed in his trunk, waiting for him to put them on. He'd spent a lot of time picturing leaving his younger siblings behind without a backward glance. That had been a moment he had intended to savor, but when it came time to head to King’s Cross the twins and Ron had been nowhere to be found and he’d only said an awkward goodbye to Ginny, who’d waved cheerfully back.

Nothing was going the way he'd planned. 

Percy had been wondering what Hogwarts would be like since he was old enough to know what Hogwarts _was_ – the way his parents and Bill and Charlie went on about it, Hogwarts was more than a school. His time at Hogwarts would define the rest of his life, and if there was anything that Percy wanted, it was to sort out the rest of his life as quickly and as painlessly as possible. 

He couldn't wait to get onto the train and get started. 

He shifted his weight from foot to foot on the platform and watched Bill and Charlie rush off to find their friends, everyone else around him in tight little laughing groups. 

He’d thought – hoped – that Hogwarts would be a new beginning, the start of having people in his life who understood and actually liked him, but already it seemed like just more of the same. 

Percy reluctantly hugged his Mum goodbye and hauled his trunk up the stairs, pulling it awkwardly down the corridor until he found a compartment that was nearly empty. A boy with messy brown hair was staring out the window, but he turned and regarded Percy curiously when he came in. "Hello," he said, eyes wide. 

"Hullo," Percy responded, shoving his hands in his pockets and then pulling them out again, uncertain. "Do you mind?" He waved a hand at the empty seat, wondering where he would go if the boy decided he did mind, as a matter of fact.

"Of course not." The boy’s smile was quick and warm, and Percy noticed the way it transformed his whole face and pulled a similar smile out of Percy, before Percy even realized it was happening. He and the boy were grinning at each other when he sat down, and that's when he noticed that the boy had a black and white Montrose Magpies shirt on. 

The boy noticed him staring. "Are you a fan?" he asked, his eyes lighting up.

"I’ve been watching their scores in the Prophet," Percy told him, "but I’ve never seen them play. They did exceptionally well against the Wigtown Wanderers at the end of last season."

"Ah, but everyone expected them to beat the Wanderers," the boy said, pursing his lips. "If they had lost, that would’ve been something. It’s their next match against Puddlemere I’m more worried about. Ever since Puddlemere got that new Chaser they’ve managed to break out of their rut."

Percy shook his head. "The Magpies are still the better team, though. They may not have any great players, but all of their players are good, and they all work well as a team. That’s always going to win out, in the long run, over a mediocre team with one exceptional player, even if that player is the Seeker."

The boy grinned at him. "That’s exactly what I’ve said, but my Dad thinks that having a bit of showmanship is more important for securing sponsorship and fans – even more than winning."

Percy scowled at that, and the boy laughed. "My thoughts exactly." He stuck out his hand. "It’s always nice to meet another kindred spirit. I’m Oliver Wood."

Percy shook his hand carefully, his own thin fingers practically disappearing into Oliver’s decidedly larger ones. "Percy Weasley." 

Oliver leaned forward in his seat looking at Percy intently. "This is the real question, then, Percy: do you play Quidditch at all, or just read about it?"

He looked so eager that Percy wasn't sure what to say. He was oddly reluctant to disappoint him, and there was clearly only one answer he was looking for. "I don't play," he admitted. "My brother tried to teach my how to fly ages ago, and I still haven't managed to learn. I like to think I know a lot about how to play, though," he added, sounding officious even to his own ears. "It's all my brother talks about, and of course Bill and Charlie subscribe to Quidditch Weekly and I read all the articles. My interest in Quidditch is more theoretical than practical, I'm afraid, but I am interested." He shrugged. 

"Oh." Oliver leaned back in his seat again, some of the light going out of his eyes. 

"My Mum says my brother Charlie is Quidditch-mad, and he's determined that Gryffindor will win the House Cup this year, so he's been on his broomstick all summer long, trying to get everyone to play against him," Percy said quickly, which was enough to hook Oliver’s interest again. 

"Your brother plays for the house team?" he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

"He's Seeker," Percy explained. It was a new sensation, meeting someone who didn't already know all about Bill and Charlie and their accomplishments. "Everyone says he’s pretty good, though from what he's said, they didn't win much last year. I think he's hoping to turn it all around this year. Do you play?"

"Yes, as much as I can," Oliver told him, as if it weren't obvious. "My parents finally bought me a proper broom last year. I couldn't bring it with me to school but I'll probably be on it every day of the holidays. My Dad says I'd live on a broomstick if I could, and he's not wrong. I'd love to play for my house's team someday, but I dunno if I'll good enough."

"If your house is full of people like me, I'd say you're probably more than good enough," Percy told him, trying to be comforting. He had never been very good at it. 

It must've sounded at least halfway convincing, because Oliver shot him a crooked smile. "I hope we're in the same house. Not just for the Quidditch thing, I mean. It'll be nice to have a friend."

"I hope so, too," Percy replied, feeling something tight start to uncoil in his chest. He spent most of the rest of the trip listening to Oliver recount the Magpie's roster and chances at the League Cup in a dazed silence. 

*

When the train finally slowed Oliver fell silent, both of them looking out the window at the dark night beyond the train. 

"Well, this is it." For the first time, Percy was more nervous than excited. 

"Your brothers must've told you what it would be like," Oliver offered as they made their way off the train in a crush of other students.

Percy shrugged. "Bits and pieces. Charlie always told me these horrible stories to scare me, he sniffed, but Bill told me not to worry about anything, that it would all be fine."

"Of course it will," Oliver said firmly. He knocked his shoulder against Percy's, giving Percy some reassurance as he followed Oliver down to the boats with the other first years. 

Percy made sure to sit next to Oliver in the boat, both of them staring at everything with eyes as big as dinner plates. It was a lot to take in as they glided across the water, the dark woods and faint lights of Hogsmede off in the distance, and finally the castle itself rearing up out of the far shore and lit up in every window.

He felt Oliver clutch his hand at the sight of the castle, and Percy squeezed his fingers back hard, both of them too excited for words.

*

Percy froze when the Sorting Hat dropped over his head. He had never told anyone how terrified he was that he wouldn't be in Gryffindor. He knew he was different than the other members of his family, and he'd never felt particularly brave – but he'd never felt cunning, smart or dedicated, either. He thought there was a real chance he didn't belong anywhere in Hogwarts, that the Hat would declare Percy unworthy of the school altogether. That fear had been haunting him all summer, and once the Hat was actually dropped over his head Percy felt a rush of panic. He dug his fingernails into his hand and bowed his head, waiting for the inevitable. 

When the Hat called out "Gryffindor!" he nearly fell over.

He took a seat at the house table, barely able to hear the wild clapping, feeling Charlie thumping him on the back as he turned anxiously to watch Oliver's head covered by the Hat. 

He sagged with relief when the Hat cried out "Gryffindor!" almost immediately. 

Oliver came to sit beside him, looking as surprised as Percy felt, and when Percy grinned at him, he grinned back. That, Percy thought later, was when their friendship really began.

*

The thing was, Percy hadn't been exaggerating his flying ineptitude. He really was terrible at flying. He'd had a secret hope that once he got to Hogwarts and didn't have the twins sniggering at him every time he fell off his broom he'd be decent at it – not the best, of course, but he'd be able to hold his own without humiliating himself. 

That wasn't the case at all, unfortunately. He'd been one of the worst in the first year flying lessons, and having Oliver watching was almost as bad as the twins, even though he never sniggered and only wanted to help. Especially since Oliver _was_ one of the best. Percy gritted his teeth and got through the flying lessons without injuring himself, and that was enough for him.

Not enough for Oliver, though.

*

"I don't know about this," Percy said for the third time as he crunched through the snow behind Oliver, his breath streaming out of him in a white cloud. 

"You're the one who insisted we do this at the crack of dawn," Oliver muttered, yawning. His scarf was looped lazily around his neck and his hair was still tousled.

Percy adjusted his glasses in the cold, the frames freezing against his skin. "I just didn't want anyone to see us –" he started, meaning he hadn't wanted the twins to see them. Oliver cut him off.

"I know," he said, more warmly. "And can I just say that the longer I know you, the more grateful I am that I'm an only child?" He stopped at the edge of the Quidditch pitch and turned to look back at the castle. "I reckon most people are still in bed," he reassured Percy. "The ones that aren't probably have better things to do than watch this anyway."

Percy screwed his mouth up but didn't bother arguing. If the twins knew that he was getting Oliver to give him extra flying lessons they would laugh themselves ill, and without fail the whole school would know before dinner. Percy was a _second year_ \- the fact that Percy could barely stay on his broomstick was horrifying. He didn't have any illusions about being a great flyer, he just wanted to be adequate, and maybe, possibly, not be the punchline of every joke when they played in the field behind the Burrow. 

It had still taken weeks of Oliver offering extra lessons before Percy took him up on it. He'd still regretted the decision as he dragged himself out of bed that morning, and if it had been anyone but Oliver, he would have called the whole thing off. Oliver was the one person he hated to disappoint, even if not disappointing him meant standing in ankle-deep snow, waiting to publically embarrass himself. 

The school brooms were kept in a small shed near the Quidditch pitch, and Oliver spent a lot more time than Percy would have examining several brooms before choosing one. He held it out to Percy and climbed gracefully onto the Clean Sweep he'd brought from home.

Percy clambered on to the rickety broom and rose into the air shakily, holding on tightly with both hands.

"Lean forward," Oliver told him. He glided alongside Percy like it was easy, like it was nothing. Percy scowled at him.

"You want to lean forward but keep your shoulders back," Oliver repeated. "Your center of gravity's all off; that's why you have a hard time staying up."

"I can't help it," Percy told him through gritted teeth. 

"You need to relax," Oliver added, ignoring him.

"Relax?" Percy stared at him. "That doesn't seem overly likely right now, I have to say. At least when I fall the snow will cushion it a little bit," he muttered. 

"Here." Oliver shifted closer, and Percy felt his gloved hands prodding at Percy's shoulders and back. "Hold on with your thighs, mostly. Your hands are just to help you keep your balance; you don't need a death grip."

"If I let go, I'll fall," Percy told him matter-of-factly. 

"I won't let you fall," Oliver promised, his grip tightening on Percy's hip. "Lean back and let go." Percy fancied he could feel the warmth of Oliver's fingers through all the layers of clothing he was wearing, even as he knew it was ridiculous. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing his fingers open one at a time.

"Better," Oliver said encouragingly. "See, you're not falling, are you?" He pulled his hand away, proving his point.

"I'm not really flying, either," Percy pointed out. "I'm just sitting on the broom."

"Well, let's fix that," Oliver said, giving Percy the kind of grin that Percy knew was trouble. He leaned forward slightly, keeping the broom at a sedate pace across the pitch. "Come on, Percy," he shouted back over his shoulder. "I'm not coming back for you."

That was enough to prod Percy tentatively forward. 

Oliver stopped at the other side of the pitch and watched him, his wand in his hand, ready to spring into action – Percy hoped – if he started to wobble.

By the time Percy reached him, his heart had stopped hammering and he was beginning to notice his surroundings a bit: the sunlight sparking on the snow beneath him, the smoke rising from Hogwarts' many chimneys, and the cold stamping red circles on Oliver's cheeks. It wasn't, he had to admit to himself, quite as bad as he'd thought it would be, especially when Oliver knocked his fist lightly into Percy's shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. 

"That wasn't so hard, was it? Let's do it again, faster." He took off, leaving Percy to follow after him, faster than the last time. By the end of the hour, Percy could cross the pitch almost as fast as Oliver, as long as it was only level flying, no diving or turns. 

It was, he thought, a real accomplishment. 

*

Quidditch matches were Percy's favorite times. He and Oliver always sat crammed together in the stands, Percy borrowing Oliver's omnioculars while Oliver detailed every single mistake that the players made, from not watching their left sides to not using more moves perfected by Portugal in the World Cup semifinals. (Oliver had a special fondness for Portugal's side that Percy found as baffling as it was endearing.) 

"Every time they start getting behind, the whole team descends into chaos," Oliver sighed, watching the disarray of the Gryffindor Chasers. "I hate to say it, but we're never going to win against Slytherin like this. Hufflepuff, maybe, but even that's unlikely. We need discipline."

"Discipline does not seem to be our house's strong point," Percy pointed out, biting into a piece of toast he'd smuggled in from breakfast. "And Charlie's as mad about Quidditch as you are, but he's not exactly known for cracking the whip at practice. He's always been really easy-going, even when he was little. Bill's the whip-cracker in the family. And Mum, of course."

Oliver was looking at him oddly. "You never seem to talk much, even though you're in the same house. I forgot Charlie was your brother."

Percy twined a lock of hair around his finger. "Wish I could," he sighed. 

"You don't get along?"

"No," Percy said shortly. "Well, the twins more than Charlie. Charlie's all right. We're not close or anything, but we get on."

"I've always wanted a big family. Mum and Dad stopped after me, though. Said I was a royal terror even when I was in my pram."

Percy smirked. "I can believe that."

Oliver stuck his tongue out at him. "To hear her tell it, I've only moderately improved since then. I was always what you might call hyperactive. She's just glad I channel most of my energy toward Quidditch these days."

"It will probably help once you get onto the team yourself," Percy said wistfully, feeling unaccountably uncomfortable with the idea. He liked having Oliver right there, next to him in the stands. He wasn't prepared to share him, even if it meant winning. Especially if it meant winning: with loads of adoring fans, Oliver would probably find a new best friend.

Oliver flashed him a warm grin. "I appreciate the vote of confidence. I don't suppose you'd consider putting in a good word for me with Charlie?"

"I don't suppose you'd need it," Percy sighed. "Besides, Charlie knows I'm rubbish at Quidditch. It might be taken as more of an anti-recommendation than anything."

Oliver frowned. "I'd like to try out for next year's team, and it's pretty rare for third years to be chosen for anything but Seeker. Especially for Keepers, they want big, burly blokes who take up as much space as possible. A word or two in my favor might help even the odds." 

Percy snorted, poking Oliver's shoulder, larger than his own. "You are a big, burly bloke."

"For a second year, maybe. But that's nothing compared to the sixth and seventh years," Oliver protested reasonably. "Anyway, I really don't see how you could be all that bad at Quidditch. You understand all of it –"

"I just have trouble putting it into practice. Believe me, I'd love for things to be different." Percy shrugged. 

Oliver rolled his eyes. "If you want things to be different, you have to make them different. I know I'm just an only child, but I really don't understand why you're so fatalistic about the whole thing. They're your brothers."

"That's easy for you to say," Percy muttered darkly. "You haven't spent a lot of time with the twins."

*

Percy didn't mention Oliver to Charlie. He knew he should, that Oliver loved Quidditch over everything, maybe, possibly, probably, over their friendship, over Percy himself, and not doing it might give their friendship a blow it could never recover from.

He knew all that and didn't do it anyway, because there was no way that Oliver could be around Charlie and the others and not see Percy the way they saw him: prissy, humorless, ridiculous. And, he added to the list, deeply selfish, even if he was the only one who knew it.

*

As it turned out, it was possible that not mentioning him backfired in exactly the way that Percy had hypothesized it might, because Oliver got onto the team anyway. Percy was happy for him – he really, really was, especially after he'd gotten over his initial shock and dread when Oliver had come booming into the common room, his face red with excitement, the books he was carrying discarded, immediately, on the table Percy had been using to write his potions essay.

Oliver hadn't even needed to open his mouth; Percy knew immediately. "You made it?" he asked, hoping he was smiling normally enough.

Luckily, Oliver was too elated to notice. "I made it!" he confirmed. He threw himself into the chair next to Percy. "Keeper!"

Percy pushed his essay aside. "We should celebrate."

"That's all sorted," Oliver told him happily. "There's going to be a big party tonight, to welcome the new members on the team."

"Of course," Percy muttered. He hated the common room parties; they were too loud and always went on too long, though he expected he was the only one who thought so.

"I can't wait to start going to practices." His grin faded a bit. "You'll still come to Quidditch matches, won't you? Even when I won't be there to drag you to them?"

"You don't drag me to them."

"Encourage you, then. I know you'd rather be studying half the time."

That much was true. Percy's own interest in Quidditch never seemed to be quite as important as spending hours on his schoolwork. He knew he wasn't as clever as Bill or the twins, and he didn't have the natural athleticism of Charlie. Anything he wanted in life he'd have to work hard for, and what he wanted most, the fever dream he never told anyone about, Minister of Magic Percy Weasley, that was going to be impossible unless he spent his entire time at Hogwarts – and beyond – doing nothing but grimly working. There was nothing else to it. Once he'd made that realization in the middle of his first year, every distraction – including Quidditch games – seemed to fall away.

Except – 

Except, of course, they were the best times he spent with Oliver. And that meant he'd always go, no matter what.

"You know I'll be there to cheer you on," Percy told him seriously. 

Oliver's grin made it all worth it.

*

The morning of his first Quidditch match Oliver was quiet at breakfast, shoveling beans and toast into his mouth as usual, but buzzing with nervous energy that was very unlike him. Percy sat beside him, passing him more toast and refilling his juice glass while Oliver tapped his fingers against the table and stared out the window. 

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Percy told him. "You know all the plays, and then some."

"The Double Eight Loop was last used successfully in a Quidditch World Cup match by Aleixo Belo," Oliver said. "He added his own spin to it by changing direction at random intervals." He picked up his toast and bit into it carefully, contemplatively. 

Before Percy could respond to that – how, he wasn't entirely sure – Charlie tapped Oliver on the shoulder. "Ready to go?"

Oliver shoved the rest of his toast into his mouth, shooting Percy a half-excited, half-terrified look as he got up and followed Charlie outside. 

"Good luck," Percy called after him. Oliver turned around and winked at him.

*

It took days of patient petitioning for Madame Pomfrey to let Percy into the hospital wing, and once in he'd spent as much time there as possible, until she began tutting about having to put him in the next bed. 

He spent his time sitting by Oliver's bed, studying and fussing over Oliver's unconscious form. Madame Pomfrey promised him that Oliver would be fine, that she'd seen far worse injuries from Bludgers, but Percy was alarmed anyway. 

He was leaning over his charms book, making notes in his crabbed script in the margins, when Oliver's sudden voice made him jump and blot the page.

"Did we win?"

When Percy glanced over at him, Oliver was touching the fading red mark on his forehead where the Bludger had struck, looking rather confused. 

Percy shut his book and moved closer to the bed. "Um." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "No, you didn't. How much of the match do you remember?"

"Almost nothing. I remember walking onto the pitch with Charlie, and getting on my broom…" Oliver slowly shook his head. "That's it, really. Did I fall off my broom?"

Percy shook his head. "You got hit with a Bludger right after the start of the match."

"I didn't even get to make any saves?" Oliver looked truly distressed.

"No, but you have the whole season left," Percy told him soothingly. "You only missed a week."

"A week?" Oliver started to sit up and nearly feel back onto the bed, grasping the bedclothes dizzily. Percy wrapped an arm around him and helped haul him up.

"You're not completely well yet. You need to be more careful," Percy chided, stuffing more pillows behind his head.

"I missed a week of practices?" Oliver asked, disbelieving. 

"And a week of classes, but you can borrow my notes for those."

Oliver didn't even seem to hear him. "Did Charlie say anything about replacing me?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Of course not. It was only one match."

Oliver rubbed the spot on his head again. "I just can't believe it. My first real match, and I don't remember any of it. And we lost."

"You'll have plenty of time this season to make it up."

"I suppose," Oliver sighed. He settled on back on the pillows reluctantly. "Tell me everything that happened. Everything."

Since it was the only way to keep him in bed, Percy did.

*

Percy spent most of the Gryffindor matches standing at the back of the stands, yelling himself hoarse. It always made him a bit self-conscious, but he liked to think that Oliver himself could hear him cheering him on.

He found that he liked playing audience; he found himself more emotionally involved in the ups and downs of the Gryffindor team than he wanted to be, but listening to Oliver detail every training move and plan was more than enough to get him fully invested. 

When Gryffindor lost to Slytherin at the end of their fourth year, Percy watched the devastated team slink off the pitch after the match and he knew that Oliver was going to blame himself for letting the Slytherin goals through, even though there was no way he could have stopped all of them, or maybe even any of them. 

Not that logic was going to help Oliver now, but Percy still wanted to try. He went into the locker room as the twins were coming out.

"What –" Fred started, but Percy had already pushed past them, blinking around in the darkened interior.

Oliver was sitting on the bench, his head in his hands. Charlie was patting his shoulder awkwardly, and looked a little relieved when he saw Percy. 

Percy sat down beside him, gently peeling Oliver's hands away from his face. "I could have done better," Oliver said. "I let so many goals go right past me." He shook his head wearily.

Percy knew better than to tell him it was only Quidditch, not the end of the world, because he knew that for Oliver, losing was the end of the world. 

"We should've won," Oliver went on. "We had an amazing team this year – the best we've had in ages. If we can't win now… when will we?" He looked at Percy so hopelessly that Percy wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

"Next year," he said soothingly. 

"Next year Charlie will be gone. There isn’t anyone who can be even a halfway decent Seeker. I don’t even want to think about how bad next year will be." Oliver drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. "They asked me to be Captain next year."

Percy gaped at him. "Why didn't you say? Of course they did. You deserve it."

"I don't," Oliver said shortly. "I have no idea what I’m going to do. I'll be the Captain of a team that can't win. I’ll go down in history as the worst Captain Gryffindor's ever had."

Percy had to roll his eyes at that. "The most melodramatic, maybe," he muttered. "I can't believe I’m the one with the reputation for histrionics."

"This isn't histrionics," Oliver insisted. "It's a fair assessment of my legacy at Hogwarts. You have your whole future ahead of you, but I'll already be washed up at fifteen."

"You really are the most ridiculous person I've ever met," Percy told him fondly. His hand slid forward to gently stroke the ends Oliver’s hair, his fingers carding through lightly. He didn't think Oliver even noticed, lost in his funk. 

"Ridiculous? Is that supposed to be helpful?" Oliver sniffed. "I really thought you would be more sympathetic. Gryffindor is your house, too."

"Sympathy is not one of my strong points," Percy reminded him. "Ask anyone who knows me."

Oliver was quiet for a long moment. "I know you, better than anyone," he finally pointed out, "and you're better at a lot of things than you think you are. Even flying."

Percy snorted. "I think your brain's still a little scrambled from that Bludger –"

"Always a possibility," Oliver allowed. 

"– which might be why you're losing sight of what's important. We both know you're going to be a brilliant Captain, and the team is going to be fine. Not winning the Cup isn't the end of the world." 

Oliver gave him a horrified look and Percy chuckled. "Sorry. I guess we'll never agree about that."

"That's because you've never sorted your priorities properly," Oliver sighed. "That's why you need me to explain where Quidditch should really fit in your life." 

"At the very top," Percy finished for him, quoting one of Oliver's own speeches. "Nothing's as important."

Oliver rubbed a hand over his face. "I've never said nothing's as important; I just think nothing's more important. You have to maintain a balance."

"That's definitely not what you've said," Percy accused. 

"I may have gone a bit overboard in the past," Oliver admitted, making Percy blink at him, shocked. When it came to Quidditch, Oliver had never been a paragon of balance or reasonableness. Percy hadn't really thought such a thing was possible. "There might be some things that are almost as important."

"Such as classes?" Percy guessed.

"Definitely not," Oliver said immediately. "I meant more like… people."

"People?" Percy frowned.

"I mean – I'm doing this all wrong," Oliver sighed.

"Doing what?" Percy asked, a little bewildered. It seemed possible that losing really had made some sort of dent in Oliver's sanity.

"This." Oliver reached out a tentative hand and touched Percy's cheek lightly, making Percy's eyes widen.

When Percy didn't pull away, Oliver leaned forward and kissed him slowly, his lips soft and warm against Percy's. When he finally pulled back, they sat looking at each other for a quiet moment.

"Oh," Percy said quietly. "I'm…people?"

"You're people," Oliver confirmed. 

"Almost as important as Quidditch?"

"There's a balance," Oliver repeated, kissing him again.

"Good to know." Percy smiled against his mouth.


End file.
